Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
One of the many nice things about my leave of absence this winter is that if we got a gentle rain I could step outside and soak it in, instead of driving home in it or even worse coming out at the end of the work day and seeing it had rained while I was trapped in the bowels of the building.
📷: Nikon Z 7II | Nikon 105mm macro
🗓️: January 7, 2024
A hoary marmot feasts in a mountain meadow on a cold rainy day in the fall. Unlike the pikas they share their habitat with, they spend most of the year in hibernation and need to put on plenty of fat reserves to make it through the long winters at Mount Rainier.
📷: Canon 7D | Canon 500mm | Canon 1.4X
🗓️: September 23, 2014
Raindrops accumulate on the head of a red-winged blackbird on a damp day in the Pacific Northwest. Brings back a lot of memories of finding a favorite spot on the auto tour at Ridgefield, rolling down the windows, and reveling in the rain. I didn’t know it at the time but this was my penultimate visit before we left Oregon.
📷: Sony A6500 | Canon 500mm | Canon 1.4X
🗓️: October 1, 2017
As someone who loved even the ubiquitous rain in Portland, rain in the desert is quite special to me. When I woke to rain last month I waited for it to slow then hurried into the backyard for some macro shots of one of our saguaros. I had to work fast, the spines dry quickly and lose the wonderful colors, a couple have already dried here. The water drops on the skin evaporate quickly and gravity is constantly tugging at the drops dripping from the spines. One day I’ll play around with a watering can to get just the right droplets on my favorite areole, perhaps a fun project for a day when my mobility is limited, but that’s not what I wanted here. I didn’t want a picture of water drops on a saguaro, I wanted a picture of the rain.
📷: Nikon Z 7II | Nikon 105mm macro
🗓️: November 18, 2023
I love that we can see mountains from our backyard. Most days anyway, on this rainy day in December I had to take it mostly on faith they were still there.
From July during a summer rain with no lightning or thunder. This photoshoot was the straw that broke the camel’s back and made me start looking for a camera with focus bracketing, though it took me another 5 months to pull the trigger.
Last year after getting some confidence identifying the more common birds and mammals and reptiles of the Sonoran Desert, I decided to start learning the desert plants. I spent an evening reading up on the trees (there aren’t a bunch, this shouldn’t have been hard) but the next morning I couldn’t remember anything I had read the night before. I was a little frustrated with myself but heard a pleading voice that there had been too much that was new and to focus on the things I had to learn, not the things I wanted to learn.
As a creature of habit I knew Arizona would provide beneficial opportunities to experience something different but also that there was so much different both at work and at home that it might be overwhelming (the pandemic hasn’t helped). So I heeded that voice and put aside the guide books and stuck to familiar nearby parks rather than venturing further afield, trying out trails new to me when I felt up to a little challenge.
This summer has brought a mild awakening in being willing to learn new things, spurred on partially by the giant cactus out front that exploded in blooms after the summer monsoons and brought in a host of small creatures to feed on its bounty, and the butterflies that similarly burst into view at the same time either in our yard or on my beloved trails.
Insects have been tricky to learn but I believe this little lovely is a leaf-footed bug of the species Narnia femorata but take that with a grain of salt, I’m not a biologist much less an entomologist, and this is all new to me besides. While they apparently prefer prickly pear (the neighbors have a glorious patch) a group of them have been hanging out on this big cactus in our front yard, feeding either on the buds and blossoms like here on a rainy summer evening, or on the fruit that grew after the pollinators got to work.
“To be, or not to be, that is the question”
“Now let me think. Did I leave the stove on? Probably not as I don’t own a stove. Still, you can’t be too careful.”
“O say can you see …”
I was photographing two of my favorite subjects last weekend, saguaros and the rain, when my macro lens breathed its last (or so I thought), the manual focus ring barely turning. This is my favorite set of saguaro spines, I wanted to capture water droplets pooling on them while I had the chance as no lightning accompanied the rain. The soft white cushion from which the spine cluster emerges is known as the areole, a distinguishing feature of a cactus (compare these to the thorns of the the ocotillo in the previous post which grow directly out of the stem). A few larger spines shoot out from the center while smaller spines radiate out in all directions. Bit of a shame that English botanist Adrian Hardy Haworth’s proposed term in 1830 for the areole, spinarium, never caught on.
As I held the lens in the following days, thinking back to how many things I had photographed with it over the years, there was some comfort in knowing it died doing what it loved, or more precisely what I love. After it sat idle on my coffee table for a few days I picked it up again, idly turning the focus ring and was surprised to see the lens focus in response. I don’t know if some rain had inadvertently gotten in and caused a mechanical glitch or if a cat hair had worked its way past the lens casing but in any case, the situation resolved itself and the lens has sprung back to life.
Thursday night a monsoon storm brought thunder and lightning and buckets of rain in a short period of time, while I prefer the Oregon rains that spread out a year’s worth of rainfall over hundreds of days rather than a few hours, I can’t complain as the desert desperately needs the water. Less intense thunderstorms arrived on Friday, since I was off work I was able to grab my macro lens to photograph a scene I had envisioned for a while but hadn’t been able to capture, large water drops collecting on the leaves of an ocotillo. The thunderstorms diminished as the weekend progressed but showers continued on and off through Sunday, giving me several days of joy out in the rain photographing plants around the yard.
The fun ended Sunday evening when the focusing unit of my Canon macro lens at long last gave up the ghost, I hoped it was a momentary glitch but sadly that does not appear to be the case. It was a few months shy of 22 years old as I bought it in November 1999 for $580, what fun we’ve had over the years! I have no idea what I’ll do for a replacement, modern lenses have a number of features I’d like that my old lens didn’t, but it’s the cameras that give me pause. Sony doesn’t have focus bracketing in their cameras but it would be so useful for the things I shoot I might add another system just to get it, but we’ll see.
Boolie 